They had adjourned to a different tent now. Robb had wanted all his bannermen that were still with him to listen to what the Red Viper had to say. He did not trust the Dornishman one bit, as conventional wisdom would have put it. During Robert's Rebellion, Dorne had sided with the Targaryeans, while Dorne had been claiming themselves to be neutral until now. There had to be a catch somehow, and he wanted to find out what it was. Once everyone should be present was there in the tent where they usually held their war councils, he said, "Alright, Prince Oberyn, tell us, what is on Dorne's mind? What grievances do you have with the Lannisters so much that you want them all dead?"
In all actuality, Robb and his men were not in a position to negotiate. Half of his men had left since Rickard Karstark's beheading and Edmure Tully's blunder at Stone Mill left them without any more advantage. He knew that if his forces marched back to Winterfell, his bannermen would never rise again, for winter was coming, like the warning in the words of his House. The need to eat and survive would seen become more important than vengeance. Trapped between the Westerlands and the Riverlands, the armies of the North and the Riverlands had nowhere else to go but to continue fighting until they could break into King's Landing. In short, they had indeed won many battles, but they were losing the war.
"While the Lannisters took your father, King Robb, they took my sister, Elia," Oberyn answered, his free-natured gait slowly disappearing. The sly smirk upon his face was also losing its infectious traction, replaced by one of silent fury and searing anger. "When King's Landing was sacked by the Lannisters after beautiful Rhaegar Targaryen was killed by Robern Baratheon at the Battle of the Trident, Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, raped my sister and split her in half with his greatsword. The loss of our loved ones is enough to unite us."
As he spoke, he knew that there was still doubt in the Northern Lords' minds towards his words. Their brows were furrowed, their lips tightly pursed. The tension was so thick that he was sure that Obara could cut it in half with her spear. Not that it mattered. Oberyn knew that they needed help. Without more men, they cannot go further. If King Robb was to secure the North, he would have to take the fight to King's Landing and utterly obliterate the Lannister armies, and the North and the Riverlands cannot do it alone.
"Sixty thousand Lannister soldiers stand between our forces and your Dornish ones, Prince Oberyn," Brynden Tully said. "What makes you think that you have the ability to bring your men north from Dorne? The Ironborn and the Lannisters control the seas while soldiers from Highgarden and the Stormlands will swallow you before you can leave your lands."
Oberyn merely chuckled. The Blackfish's concerns were true. If Dorne's soldiers were to ever try to move out from Dorne, the surrounding Tyrells and Baratheon troops would rip them to shreds. "Ten thousand Dornish spears guard our borders with the Dornish Marches, Lord Brynden," he explained. "We have another ten thousand scattered all over the Riverlands and the Westerlands, disguised as merchants selling wine and fruits. You will have the numbers of the men you lost when these are gathered at my call. The other thirty thousand remain in our lands to protect our people in case of any eventuality."
"Fifty thousand spears in Dorne..." Roose Bolton was overheard whispering. It was an impressive number. Impressive enough that all of the Northern lords now became wide-eyed in disbelief, even the Young Wolf himself.
"What's your price?" Catelyn Stark demanded. She had learned the hard way not to put too much trust in strangers, particularly strangers with bountiful offers, even when she could not trust those closest to her.
Oberyn was now smirking from ear to ear. "The first one would be easier to swallow. You will marry your eldest sister, Sansa to me, to bind our countries together," he said to Robb, letting it all sink in. Silence ushered in again, and the sound of a dropping pin would prove deafening. He could hear Catelyn gasp while Talisa looked at Robb in askance. No doubt, the young Queen in the North would have heard her husband whisper into her ear that he was a man who had eight bastard daughters, two of which were right before them. He was older than their late father, Eddard, and already had countless lovers in Dorne. He would have already shamed his future betrothed before a marriage-contract was written, just things that outsiders to Dorne would be concerned about.
"Do you think me to be Viserys Targaryen, selling my own sister for an army?" Robb asked Oberyn, who immediately raised an eyebrow. In fact, the Young Wolf was so incensed that he rose from his seat, angered by the sheer thought of the parallel between him and the fallen (and exiled) Targaryen Prince could even exist.
"I'll have you know that Princess Daenerys Targaryen had a happy marriage with Khal Drogo when it lasted," Oberyn replied just as quickly, openly displaying his sharp tongue and wit. When he saw that the Northern lords were not tolerating his jape, he raised both hands as a sign of surrender. "Which brings me to Dorne's second condition... you will ally with us, yes, but you will see a Targaryen Queen on the Iron Throne."
Those words brought the Northern lords to raise their swords again. "We will not bow to anyone but our own King Robb!" one of the Stark bannermen shouted loudly. "The North will keeps its own laws and men!"
It was not Robb, but Talisa that told the bannermen to hold their tongues and lower their weapons. It was one of those rare moments when their new Queen had ever asserted her authority, so much so that even Robb himself was astounded. Flushing from her outburst, she continued with a little stutter, "I... I'm sure that Prince Oberyn has more to say on the matter." Even Oberyn's daughters seemed to be highly interested in this new Queen, a Volantene noble from the likes of her family name. No doubt, that these boorish Northerners did not know who she was to those in Essos, but by marrying her, Robb Stark could have gained valuable allies in the form of the Volantenes. With enough training and experience, she would be a Queen that the North would be proud of.
"Of all the Seven Kingdoms, Dorne and the North has never really been conquered by the Targaryens," Oberyn elaborated, almost too eloquently, his Dornish accent jarring to the ears of the Northerners. "Torrhen Stark bent the knee because he knew that his people are done for if Aegon and his dragons should decimate the North. He knew that the loss of life that would happen should he have fought was not worth the price of pride. We Dornishmen were only brought into the Seven Kingdoms because my ancestor married a Targaryen princess."
He did not speak further, letting the information that he had just delivered sink into the minds of the Northerners. Robb seemed to want to open his mouth to speak multiple times, but refrained from doing so. Robb knew what Oberyn was trying to insinuate. He was a young warlord, but not a fool. If Daenerys Targaryen somehow reaches Westeros with her Dothraki army (if it was still intact), it would mean that she would be the Queen of only Five Kingdoms, where the North and Dorne would remain independent.
"Would that idea sit well with the Targaryen Princess?" Robb asked Oberyn. "To come to Westeros expecting to have Seven Kingdoms but receiving only Five?"
Oberyn chuckled. "She doesn't quite have a choice, doesn't she? She needs us just as we need her and her dragons to rid the usurpers of her father's throne from King's Landing," he answered simply. "Forced to the point of desperation, what can anyone of us do?" Was Dorne desperate? No, Dorne was not. Dorne could wait out this ridiculous war without any hurt or qualm. But what fun was there to be had in waiting? Dorne had been waiting for their chance of vengeance for long enough. The time was soon ripe for them, and they would seize opportunity like the rest of the animals playing upon the fields of war now. It is time for the lions, dragons, stags and wolves to know that even snakes have their talents and abilities.
"What do you want from Sansa if you wed her?" Catelyn demanded. The fact that she was a fierce mother was not unknown in all of Westeros. Word had spread all over that she had captured Tyrion Lannister upon suspicion that he was the one who crippled her second-born son, Bran Stark. Although she had failed to have her sister Lysa Arryn execute the Imp, she was already infamous as a mother who would resort to anything to protect her children.
"That, Lady Stark, would be decided between your daughter and I," Oberyn replied. If all his previous words had been false, then this one would be sincere. "In Dorne, we treasure our lovers and love them as they should be loved. But if you are in need of specifics, I need no children from Princess Sansa. I have eight daughters currently, and they're all a lively handful, trust me." Of course, he did not mention the existence of his beloved paramour. The Northerners were even more uptight that those in the other territories outside of Dorne. They hold to archaic customs, even dressing in stuffy clothing so far south of the Neck. He would never give Ellaria up but he would broach the subject with them and with Sansa gently. It would be discussed at a later date.
Catelyn Stark held her silence, but gave up when she looked at Obara and Nymeria. His Sand Snakes were famous through the realms. They were fighters, just like him, and by the way they held their presence by his side, she could see that he was a loving father. They were proud and ready to stand by him, in combat if it needed to be. If this was a husband that Sansa would have to suffer, then it would have been a thousand times better than what she was still suffering with in King's Landing in the hands of the Lannisters. If he could be a loving father, then perhaps there was a slim chance that he could be a loving husband as well.
"Lady Sansa will be a princess twice over when she marries into House Martell," Nymeria, Oberyn's second-born added. A quiet realization dawned over all of them. What she said was true. With Robb being the King in the North, Sansa was now the Princess of the North. Although she could never use that title in King's Landing, she was a Princess in every sense of the word now. She would be a princess if she returned home to her family. However, status was less important when her survival was at stake with each day she remained in the capital. Once again, Robb was reminded that while he had his mother by his side ever since the start of his campaign, Sansa had suffered alone in the capital, forced to watch as their father was executed, forced to endure the cruelty of the Lannister bastard, King Joffrey who should have been known as Joffrey Waters.
The Stark family looked at one another. If it even mattered, Robb was now married to a noblewoman from Volantis and now, Sansa would be betrothed to Dorne. If the North was to be a re-founded sovereign nation, they needed these alliances. Catelyn Stark herself had released Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, in hopes that his return to King's Landing would be traded with Sansa's return to them. They had not received word from Brienne of Tarth regarding that venture, but if it should fail, then... perhaps they should have a failsafe.
"How sure are you that the Lannisters would give my sister-in-law up just so you can marry her?" Talisa added to the barrage of questions laid upon Oberyn. Hers was a valid one. Surely enough, even his own daughters almost betrayed their father by turning towards him with raised eyebrows. They did not trust him enough to have thought through the plan in such a detailed manner. The Northerners have proven to be a shrewd bunch, after all.
"You will leave that to me," Oberyn said. "I am not without my charms, Your Grace." He said those words with a wink of an eye directed to the Queen, a gesture that did not endear him to Robb. "Besides, the Lannisters promised a seat on the Small Council to Dorne as well as the head of my sister's killer. I am sure to claim both of these by the time I wed Lady... Princess Sansa."
Catelyn Stark bit her lip, undecided whether to trust him or not, while Robb Stark was still scowling at the prospect of needing to sell his sister to Dorne for their support. The bannermen looked at their newly-claimed royal family and could only wait. It was a carrot that they had to take.
"The only way you can improve your men's morale is to take Casterly Rock, to make the Lannisters lose their ancestral seat as you have yours," Obara continued in her father's stead. "You can do it with our men stationed in these lands. My father only needs to give the word and they will materialize before your eyes..." She was interrupted by her own father.
"Obara..." he hushed, clicking his tongue in a way that mocked condescension. "We mustn't push our friends too hard. It is their decision to make, after all."
It did not take a fool that they were already psychologically tricking them into agreeing with them. They needed a victory against the Lannisters, and they needed it now, if not sooner.
"We shall see your men three days hence," Robb said, finally relenting. "Then we shall decide about your proposal."
Oberyn was now smirking from ear to ear. He knew that the Young Wolf's words had double meaning.
When the sun rose on the third day, Robb's scouts came running towards him. They told him that they had ten thousand soldiers in their camp, wearing no colors and bearing no sigils. They wore helms that covered most of their faces and were only lightly armored in leather, and bore tall, shining spears. If armies of the North and the Riverlands had not been told that they were Dornishmen by Oberyn, no one would have suspected a thing.
"Does House Martell have a long-term detachment of merchant-soldiers?" Brynden Tully asked Oberyn, bearing similar armor and his own serpentine spear, trying to hide his astonishment as much as he could.
"That is for us to know and for you to find out, Lord Brynden," Oberyn chuckled. "These men will be marshaled by Obara and Nymeria. They are my eldest daughters and have been trained long and well enough in the art of war." Although they have been inactive for the past decade and a half, no one ever doubted the Dornishmen's propensity to fight. When Obara called them to attention, each of them got into their battle-stances in fluid, uniform motions. There was no clanking and clonking of plate upon plate as they positioned their spears, only swift, lithe movements.
Robb was impressed. He hated himself for being so impressed. He prided himself in having troops that were better organized and had more experience than the Lannisters' men had, surely, these Dornish merchant-soldiers were different beasts altogether, and put his pride in his own men to shame. Talisa had to discreetly lead his slacked jaw back to its supposed position with her finger as Obara Sand showed them off by getting them to enter various formations at her command while he found out that his mother was utterly speechless.
At the corner of his eye, Oberyn saw something rather peculiar. Roose Bolton, who stood next to his king, had paled slightly. Surely, such a show of Dornish expertise was not enough to bring such a reaction to a Stark bannerman. He would have to have a word with the young King in the North about this interesting observation soon. "So, King Robb, what do you think?" he asked Robb after Obara's little show had ended. "What is your decision?"
"The moment we attack Casterly Rock, we're in this together," Robb almost growled at Oberyn. "There's no turning back. If we fail, Lannister men will flood through Dorne as they will storm through the Riverlands for all our heads. My sister will lose hers in King's Landing." The Lannisters always paid their debts. A failed attack on the Lannister's ancestral home would mean sudden death for them all. A victorious one, however, could mean renewed hope and by the Old Gods and the New, Robb knew that his men needed hope the most.
"I assure you, Your Grace, this is not a fate that I imagined when I set out of my home to seek you out," Oberyn replied. "Together, we will make sure that those fucking Lions pay dearly for what they have done to our families."
From then on, Robb knew that he had no choice. If this was the only way to move forward, then he would take it. It would be better than having to go scraping back to the Freys. It would perhaps bring Sansa back to her family. "So be it," Robb said, and grasped Oberyn's hand like a brother before his own men and Oberyn's. "If I go down after this, trust me when I say that I will bring you crashing down after me."
Oberyn chuckled, readily accepting Robb's challenge. "Then I will have to find all the stilts in the world to support you." There were no cheers from both armies. It was to be a silent acknowledgment for a covert agreement. "Tomorrow..."
"... we'll dine in the Lion's Den," Robb continued.
"I couldn't put it better myself."
HAN: Yes, I made that whole merchant-unit from Dorne up, so sue me. I did so because there was no way Oberyn and his girls to have brought 10000 men to the Riverlands where Robb currently was without anyone noticing. I hope that you guys liked what I did with Talisa. She looked very promising to me as Robb's Queen, and since she was a noblewoman, she should have some experience in dealing with bickering lords.
Oh, I think due to my style and my love for certain cult-status pop culture fandoms, you'll see some references to other fandoms here and there throughout this fanfic, if I am able to. If you can spot them, just tell me! ^_^
Enjoy!